Two men of the same age find each other in conversation at a bar and learn that they both loathe life.
“My wife left me for my best friend, I was laid off and my mortgage was foreclosed. My children don’t call or write and I’m getting too old to start over.” Said the one. “I can find only one way out, either through a bottle or a gun.” He finished drinking his beer and waved for another.
“What a coincidence.” Said the other. “You have lost everything but I never had those to begin with.”
“Maybe you’re taking things too seriously,” the bartender interjected. “Many things are worth living for. You don’t have to drink yourself to death.” It was his way of saying, I think you’ve had enough.
“Any happiness in my life makes me feel guilty.” The first muttered. “Perhaps, then, starting right now, I refuse to laugh at anything ever again. I refuse to allow myself any pleasures until I pull through this.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” said the second man. “I will make a similar resolution, only I will laugh at everything.” He finished drinking and then turned to his companion and burst into high-pitched squealing. He pointed and he held his stomach and he fell off the stool onto his back.
The first man didn’t react at first, just listening to the man crawling on the floor, laughing. Then he abruptly stood up, bent over the laughing man and slowly beat the shit out of him. But it was no use. The laughing man was already free.
VENERY
Mene Tekel
VI-XXIII-MMVII
Dedicated to Ultra_Hacker for all the rides he gave me.
The radio is playing Queen so loud I can't hear anything but "Radio Ga Ga".
In the dark, I see those dark, green pools reflecting light. "There!" I shout and point.
Chase guns the engine, flips on the headlights, and at 32 miles an hour we run the cat down with his car. The cat doesn't get far before it lurches under the right tire and lifts the car a foot in the air. In the passenger side mirror, I can see the mass of fur behind us, a puddle of blood and guts oozing out of its broken belly. Chase, I, and Thomas in the back, all laugh.
We turn left and right and hit a cul-de-sac and do a u-turn in someone's driveway at 28 miles an hour, burning rubber. The radio is playing Queen's "We Are The Champions". We drive down another road, and I see it, another cat, sitting in the gutter. Chase hits the lights, and we chase the feline down at 44 miles an hour. Imagine a giant balloon of strawberry jelly. That's the look the animal makes as it bursts under our tires, fur and viscera spraying out.
We all laugh, we all laugh. Thomas sits up. None of us wear a seatbelt. Thomas injects himself with a vial of heroin and sighs. And laughs.
The radio is playing Queen's "Who Wants to Live Forever". Thomas is singing along, Chase is drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. I close my eyes and breathe the music. It's a mix cd on random play, and each song is ecstasy.
Chase is driving a 2006 Grand Prix. The color is a egg white hue, and each flash of streetlight we dart under illuminates the speckles of blood dotting the hood. It's beautiful.
Chase drives faster, wheeling around a corner at 54 miles an hour. He speeds up to 67 when I see a raccoon, and point it out. Before it can dash back into the woods, we nail it, bouncing over it like a living speed bump. We all laugh, we all laugh.
Driving at 51 miles an hour, we wheel down the street and run a red light. It's so late at night that no one sees us. We run a stop sign fifty feet later at 49 miles an hour. I see something black and white and scream, "There!" We smush it into the gutter. Turns out it was a skunk, and the stench bombards us as we race away choking at 73 miles an hour.
Chase turns off the headlights, and we crouch along at 17 miles an hour, hunting for prey. I see a black cat sitting in the beam of a streetlamp. "There!" Chase hits the highbeams and the cat takes off. We chase it down the street until it runs into someone's yard and up a sapling. We can't stop, and we whack into the tree. It crackles and falls, and the cat runs out of the leaves in panic. We accelerate again and chase the kitty into. . . .the beams of an oncoming car. The cat tries to turn and run laterally, but the car taps it into the air. It soars into our windshield, killing it instantly. The car is out of control, and we hit a mailbox before we're straight on the street again. A flurry of bill-me-laters and magazines and one baffled driver is our wake as we leave the scene at 89 miles an hour. And we all laugh hysterically.
The unlucky black cat is still on our windshield, bleeding from rips in it's flesh. Chase flips the windshield wipers and rubs it off the car. It flops into the road, rolling like a rag doll. The radio is playing "Killer Queen".
At 47 miles an hour, we hit a rabbit on accident. At the irony of this we cannot stop laughing. Thomas is in the back, tears streaming from his eyes, laughing, high as a fever. He moans, and lies down across the back seat. At 33 miles an hour we hit a speed bump, and he flies onto the floor. We all laugh, we all laugh.
I see a rabbit nibbling dandelions in a patch of grass by an intersection. "There!" We hit the lights and chase the bunny into the street at 40 miles an hour. The animal runs diagonal to our tires as they roll over him and squish his little bunny frame.
I scream, "Stop!" and Chase does. Without answering their questions, I spring out of the car, and over to the rabbit's body. It's still alive, it's eyes blinking like an epileptic, it's front leg twitching. I grasp it's paw, place my boot on it's face and pull. It's little head cracks like bubble wrap under my foot, and I pull up an entire drumstick of bunny meat. I hop back in the car, and toss the leg at Thomas. "For good luck." I say. We all laugh, we all laugh.
The radio is playing Queen's "A Kind of Magic".
We drive down another neighborhood at 23 miles an hour, and see a white cat. It glows angelic in the headlights. It almost gets away, but we trample it's hind legs. We do a u-turn in someone's flowerbed and face the dying animal. It's legs are twisted, broken and it's trying to escape by pulling itself along the ground with its front legs. It's pathetic in a funny, helpless way. Chase accelerates to 45 miles an hour, flattening the cat's head and ending its misery. We all laugh, we all laugh.
"There!" I see a tiny calico kitten, it's stupid little bell ding-a-linging as we mow it down. It became a gum stain on the pavement. We all laugh, we all laugh.
The radio is playing Queen's "Fat Bottomed Girls". We're driving down a stretch of interstate and we thump over deer roadkill. An animal that we wouldn't even try to hit. It sends the car out of control, offroad, and we're driving in the grass. All kinds of animals run out of the bushes and into traffic. A few rabbits get slaughtered, a raccoon as well, but most get away. This just kills us and we laugh and laugh like maniacs. We pull back onto the road at 52 miles an hour, and take the next exit.
We drive out of the suburbs for a minute. Cruising down an empty street behind a warehouse we see a homeless man pushing a shopping cart of his possessions. Chase doesn't stop. He hits the cart, and the man at 61 miles an hour and sends them both flying over the roof. The bum's ribs cracked, and his face peeled off, but he was still alive enough to stand and curse at us as we drove off laughing.
The radio is playing "Under Pressure".
We see two dogs fighting each other, ripping each other's throats out. Vicious, stray dogs, the kind that inspired Kujo. At 38 miles an hour we rush into their little fight. They try to move, but we still tear off the smaller dogs leg. I can hear it's howling as we race off. In the rearview mirror, I see this three legged dog, still taking on the other, snarling, dog eat dog.
The shopping cart had cracked our windshield and broken a headlight. Like a one eyed predator, we stalk through the shadows until we see a small, grey cat sitting in the street. We chase this one down, but it keeps running faster and faster. It dives under a chain link fence and we follow it, bursting through. We shoot into a dried up canal, and the cat is just ahead of us, dodging the glow of the sole headlight. It bounces in and out of the beam, like a shadow. Chase accelerates slowly, just barely idling up beside it, til it's fluffy tail is close enough to the fender. Then he tips the steering wheel just so, and the cat's tail catches, ripping it up and tearing it around the axle. A stream of blood sprays across the passenger side window. Thick, meaty blood, like tomato sauce. We all laugh, we all laugh.
Suddenly, at 47 miles an hour we hit a steel post at an angle, flipping the car and flopping down the pavement until the ceiling becomes the floor. My head hits the dashboard and breaks my face open. My teeth are chewing on teeth. Thomas finds a needle in his mouth. Chase is cut up by shattered safety glass. Blood everywhere.
We lay upside down in the wreckage, bleeding and immobile with pain.
The radio is still on, static and fuzz. The song is "Another One Bites the Dust".
And we all laugh, we all laugh.
